


To Ash You Shall Return

by silverstardust



Series: Cartharsis [2]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: (?), Burning Rescue Lio Fotia, Burning alive, Catharsis, Depression, Fire, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25717981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverstardust/pseuds/silverstardust
Summary: He’s not sure if he’s actually hearing the Promare. He knows that, by all means, he shouldn’t be. The rift in the core is sealed, by his own hand working in tandem with Galo’s, the Promare sent back to their home star, in their own dimension so far away, but it’s so inexplicably loud, pounding in his head. For once in a long, long time, his head isn’t empty, and it’s ecstasy.
Series: Cartharsis [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1865269
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	To Ash You Shall Return

It’s cold, without the flame. Terribly cold.

In his chest, behind his heart, there’s a cavity- it’s where the Promare- his own promare, and then the thousands upon thousands he’d synced with in unbridled agony and anguish and rage- had once rested. But now they’re gone, permanently, but the cavity remains, unfilled, lacking in heat. Ice fills his veins, like the Absolute Zero bullet is still lodged in his heart, but without the Promare, it will never unthaw, and the ice will spread, until it consumes him fully and it kills him.

He was once convinced that there was no other way he’d go, than dissolving into a pile of burning ash, and now, he’s afraid that one day he’ll be frozen solid, cold for eternity, stuck in an unmelting prison of ice.

Lio can’t look in the mirror anymore.

The cavity, the emptiness is too big, swallowing him whole- there’s a blank emptiness, a hole in his torso, the shape of a triangle, a point at each shoulder and a point at his navel. The mark of the Promare, and with time, it’s grown bigger, chilled him to the bone, and there is nothing that he can stuff into it to try and fill it, any persons or things or emotions decaying in the vacuum’s frost and falling out, fading away. Lio knows it’s going to swallow him whole- it’s only a matter of time.

Having been born with the fire, Lio is nothing without it, and he knows it.

When he wakes that morning, his head, like always, is absolutely silent, as it has been ever since Their departure. He does not look in the mirror, or glance at his reflection in the window, not wanting to see the gaping maw in his body. He follows Galo’s steps, preparing himself for the day, for another shift with Burning Rescue 3. He’s pretending, because as of now, it’s all he knows, and pretending is easier, anyways. He pretends he’s fine, pretends he doesn’t see the pity hidden deep into the eyes of those around him, pretends there isn’t an endless void in him.

(He’s not sure if Galo knows, or if he’s woefully ignorant. Either way, Galo has kept him around, insisting they share his apartment. Insisting it’s more fun and less lonely this way.)

They’re halfway to the station on Galo’s bike when Lio finally is conscious of what he’s put on that morning- the same black turtleneck he has five of, his uniform jacket, but out of the bottom of his drawers, he’s dug out his leather pants, with the belts, the last remaining piece of his Burnish uniform.

The sun is sweltering, the summer heat causing most to go with as little clothing as they can get away with, but it’s far too cold for Lio, in his leather and wool and thick jacket. He used to burn far, far much hotter than this.

Lio goes about his day pretending, and it whizzes past him like sand falling between his fingers. He thinks at one point he was filling out some sort of paperwork, and at another point, helping with something regarding their fire trucks, but it’s as if the moment he stepped inside the fire station, he’d blinked, and now it was night, and the only thing that’s jolted him to his senses is the alarm blaring. A fire has broken out in their district.

Lio blinks again, and he’s at his command station next to Lucia, staring through feed monitors as the rest of the crew attempt gallivantly to put out the fire eating away the factory. They say they’re playing his strengths, with his experience as a leader and innate knowledge of fire, but deep down, he’s fully aware of what they’re doing- they’re intentionally keeping him away from the flames.

He doesn’t know why they bother with the factory- it was condemned and abandoned anyways, near the very edge of Promepolis, with all the structures around it also in similar states. The flames are beautiful, flickering sunny yellows and piercing oranges and burning reds, twisting and moving like it’s alive, like it’s breathing. Fire lives to burn, Lio knows this well, and they should let it consume the lot and leave everything as burning ash. But he bites his tongue, because he knows all too well what will happen if he spoke those thoughts aloud.

The fire beckons to him, inviting and playful and a terrible, horrible reminder of his own cyan-magenta flames. It promises to warm the ice in his veins and to fill the void that is consuming him, to burn with strength and vengeance unknown, in spite to those trying to put it out.

_Burn._

Lio startles.

_Burn. Burn, burn!!_

He’s not sure if he’s actually hearing the Promare. He knows that, by all means, he shouldn’t be. The rift in the core is sealed, by his own hand working in tandem with Galo’s, the Promare sent back to their home star, in their own dimension so far away, but it’s so inexplicably loud, pounding in his head. For once in a long, long time, his head isn’t empty, and it’s ecstasy.

_Burn, Lio- Burn!_

Lio’s head is full of cotton, and he surrenders himself to the chants of the flame. Distantly, he’s aware that he’s stood up, that he’s moving, and that Lucia is calling to him from inside the truck, but there’s a pleasant buzzing through the cotton in his head, accompanying the chanting flame, and he ignores her. He stands outside the truck, hands clenched at his side, staring up into the inferno consuming the abandoned factory.

It’s glorious.

His blood roars in his veins, the ice melting away as the infernal heat buffets his skin and embers and sparks fly, threatening to singe his newly mortal skin. He’s never been so warm, not since the Promare left, and it’s a heady rush that threatens to overtake him. The cavity in his chest shrinks, being filled by the flames, and it continues to shrink, and shrink, and shrink, until it’s but a pinprick above his heart, and Lio throws his arms out and throws his head back and grins.

_Burn h△rder!_

And oh, how he does want to burn harder, let the flames consume him once again. He can feel the bubbling heat rising from the cavity, pulsing and flowing underneath his skin. To fan the flames with his own, and let everything burn to cinders around him. Breathe in the flames and the smoke and burn his skin, until he is the fire and the fire is him.

_H△rder! Brighter!_

His head feels too full of cotton, but he staggers forward one step, then two, breathless laughter escaping his lips, and then he’s running into the inferno, hands and arms outstretched as he twirls amongst the raging flames, letting them lick at his skin, mirthful laughter escaping from him. The heat is tremendous, and as he twirls and spins and dances amongst the fire, he can see his own flames, the beautiful neon cyan-magenta, curling around him, playfully and loving and Lio laughs and laughs and laughs- his fire’s returned. His blood is singing as it boils beneath his skin, the flames laughing and dancing joyfully with him, nipping at his heels as if to make chase, and the heat and the ash in his lungs in a sinful pleasure like no other. He hears the radio chatter in his headset, his team calling out to him, calling orders and fighting against them, drowning out the sound of the flame’s chanting, and in a righteous fury, Lio rips it off and crushes it underfoot, letting the metal and plastic melt away.

Nothing will ever drown out the flame’s chanting ever again.

_H△rder! Brighter! Burn, burn, burn!_

Someone calls out his name, and Lio turns.

It’s Galo, hidden within his mech, and through the tinted glass, he looks almost as if he’d terrified.

Lio’s not sure why anyone would be terrified of such a beautiful force of nature.

“Look, Galo,” he croons, and he scoops up a piece of his cyan-magenta flame, cradling it in his hands like the precious thing it is, “Look, I’ve got my flame back, Galo.”

“We need to get out of here!” Galo yells above the roar of the flames. “The floors above are going to collapse, you’re going to get hurt!”

Lio scoffs, hugging the flame to his chest. “The flames can’t hurt me, not anymore. Not with my flame.”

“The Promare are gone, Lio! We need to get out of here!”

“My flames will protect me,” Lio reassures him, with a smile. “They’ll protect you, too. You carry a piece of it with you.”

Galo shouts something else, but it’s lost amongst the groaning and creaking of the building and the roaring of the flames. Something wraps around Galo’s mech, yanks hard, dragging it out of the building. But Lio pays it no mind, makes no move to leave. He has his flame again, and his flame will protect him.

As the building collapses down around him, succumbing to the flame, Lio feels complete for the first time in a long time.


End file.
